Palm Angels in the Sky – Song and Lyrics by 42 Dugg

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Discover the poetic beauty in ‘Palm Angels in the Sky’ by 42 Dugg. This lyric breakdown takes you on a journey through the artist’s thoughts, emotions, and the story they aim to tell. From clever metaphors to evocative imagery, we delve into the nuances that make this song a lyrical masterpiece. Whether you’re a fan of 42 Dugg or a lover of well-crafted words, our detailed analysis will give you a deeper understanding and appreciation of this song.

Pssht, c’mon (f*ck with me)
Y’all know what the f*ck goin’ on
YaDigg (that shit flexin’, I’m good)
Young Pharaoh on the beat
YN2, nigga (ooh, ooh), young and turnt
C’mon, ayy

Pull up on the bros, leave the coupe runnin’
Just blew a hunnid on me, this a new hunnid (two hunnid)
Avianne textin’ like he miss me, really?
White Prezi cost fifty, buss down
It was for a couple, what you up now?
One-ten for a line, pour the cup out (I’m on it)
CMG the label so the ‘Cat white (skrrt)
F*ck his BM and his sister, yeah, I’m that type
White gold, AP, that’s my new bitch (bussin’)
Catch the speed on the East clutchin’ two sticks
Ridin’.11s on the house, this for you Trick (yeah)
Niggas always see me out, never do shit
Doggy Bone too sick, call ’em M30
Whatchu gettin’ forty-eight? Dog, it ain’t worth it
Thirty for thirty in the air, I’m perfect
Real six inches, AP, two Birkins
We ran ’til the wheels fell off or I’m curvin’
Never met a nigga like me, she nervous
A hunnid thousand in the red bag, Supreme
Young bad bitch, still I had the beans
Say her nigga turnt, he doing bad to me
Too many racks around, I can’t even flash the cheese
They don’t want problems, on my mama I promise
Super Bowl, Moncler, nineteen Pradas
Givenchy, shark hoodie, t-shirt, Rottweiler
I ain’t into fashion, baby, I’m just into braggin’
A lotta bitches celebratin’, actin’ like they had ’em
Young and turnt, yeah, that’s me
Fourteen hundred, these pants not cheap
I got the whole hood, but doggy who got me?

(Who got us?
We the boys, we the boys
Who got me?
Yeah)

Prolly got a concert off six blunts
Ex been in her feelings for like six months
Only bitch around, can’t get fucked
If she was still movin’ browns I would’ve been fucked
Doin’ a hunnid down Mound dodging potholes
Put a one on a one with my eyes closed
Name another young nigga with two buss Cubans (I got it)
Put a link on my dudes, nigga, f*ck Cubans
Hit a lotta bad bitches and I f*ck Cubans
Keep Doggy Bone with me ’til he wanna eat
‘Coulda want a good bitch, only want a freak
We don’t pay for pussy, every bitch go for free
I f*ck a nigga auntie, I f*ck a nigga niece
Fifty-eight for the whole, break it down in the Jeep
Forty-eight for the Gs, yeah, I left with my nigga Young
Stash mob for the trees while I fist with my son
Flame got shit ‘fore I go and block a nigga
Oh, he fuckin’ with the move? Come and top a nigga
Thirteen, hard and ain’t got it rockin’ with me
Yeah, I don’t squash shit, I sock a nigga
Nah, for real, playin’ with the pape’
Come in with the F, she’s playin’ with the Drac’
Ten Glock everything, playin’ in the BAPE
Name another young nigga with three bust downs
Dog food through the mail if she touch down
Couple hunnid on her nails, sit the f*ck down
Yellin’, “Free my Uncle Neal,” ’til he come back
Broad day everything, and not one mask
Gotta be careful, Doggy Bone, nah, f*ck that
Four high speeds in the ‘Cat, where the truck at?
I ain’t never goin’ plain, bitch, where my Buffs at?
Couple chains on, dog, I’m thinkin’ ’bout the Patek
Highs for my mama, no sleep for my daddy
You ain’t get shit lil’ nigga if you ratted
4’s over everything, and we got it tatted
Tryna be my main thing, really, bitch, how?
‘Cause you a turnt nigga, I was fuckin’ with a child
Oh, you done burnt, niggas, everybody droppin’ fire
Fifteen for the plane, pyromaniacs in the sky

No cap
Nigga, free Tez